


The Wisdom to Know the Difference

by TT_Angst_Queen



Series: New Beginnings [6]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Episode: s15e01 House Divided, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Post-Paraguay, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, no actual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13696068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT_Angst_Queen/pseuds/TT_Angst_Queen
Summary: Reeves leaves with some parting words to Gibbs, and Tony and Gibbs have another talk.





	The Wisdom to Know the Difference

It was well into the morning hours, around 0830, when Reeves finally left, but not before giving Gibbs a few choice words.

 

“Listen, Gibbs,” Reeves put a hand on Gibbs’ shoulder, and looked into his eyes.

 

“This can't happen again, and I'm not just talking about this for your own health. Tony has a child, and what you did is not ok,” the blue eyed man nodded, his face flushed with shame. “You _cannot_ endanger a child that way. You may not be a violent drunk, hell, you may be able to act semi-normally when your pissed of your arse,” Reeves narrowed his eyes, “but you _never_ , **_ever_ ** , get drunk around a child. Doesn't matter if your an alcoholic or not, It's _not_ ok. When Tony gets over his shock about what he heard from Tim, and finding you like he did, I can almost guarantee you he will not be happy,” Reeves hesitated, his anger at his Boss' and friend being pushed aside momentarily as he noticed just how big the retired SFA was, and how tall. While Reeves was sure the retired agent had let himself go a bit, he had no doubt the man could still drop somebody just as well as Torres could; he had heard plenty of stories from McGee of DiNozzo's many takedowns, and the ones where Tony had been protecting his NCIS 'family’ had been almost legend.

 

“Look,” Reeves swallowed, looking back at his Boss. “If DiNozzo gets too angry, If he hurts you-” Reeves stopped at Gibbs' face going even whiter than before, worried that Gibbs was confirming his fears, he made to get up and confront the Italian, but Gibbs clamped a hand down on his sleeve, and pulled at his arm until Reeves met his eyes, then spoke in a harsh whisper.

 

“Tony may have a temper when he's protecting family, but he would _never_ hurt me, or anyone in a fit of rage.” Gibbs smiled softly at the man who was pretending not to listen to their conversation.

 

“Tony's only hurt scumbags, and when it wasn't a criminal, he uses his words,” Gibbs chuckled, and looked at Reeves. “Even if he uses his silver tongue on me, I can handle it, Clayton. Anything he says, I'm sure I'll deserve.”

 

The two men, Sponsor and Sponcé, looked at each-other, Reeves looking for something, and Gibbs answering as best he could.

 

“Ok,” Reeves nodded. “Ok. But if you need anything Gibbs, you call, alright? Any of us, anytime. You don't only have Tony lookin’ out for you, mate. We care about you, Boss. We want you to get better, but you need to work with us, not _against us_.”

 

With one last look, Reeves left, giving Tony a nod as he left.

 

That was a few hours ago now, and it was reaching noon before Tony was the one to break the silence.

 

“If you do this again, Jethro, I'm not going to give you another chance.” Tony spoke, his voice harsh. After the initial shock of the last several hours had finally left him, he was filled with anger, and hurt.

 

“I'm not having my daughter raised in a household with a drunk parent, not like I did.” Tony sat on the coffee table in front of his lover, and held Jethro's gaze with a steely glare.  “I won't have my child wondering why _Papa_ is stumbling and slurring, why _Papa_ wants to drink more than be with her. Even if I know you would never hurt her, _physically_ , having a drunk parent is one of the worst ways to emotionally hurt a child well into their adulthood. I of all people know that.”

 

Gibbs nodded, nibbling on his lip, until Tony reached with a hand and grabbed the flesh with his fingers, pulling it away from his teeth.

 

“That doesn't mean you can hurt yourself, Jethro.”

 

“I, I will never do this again, Tony, I'll kill myself first.” Gibbs rasped, and Tony reached forward and cuffed the man on the back of his head.

 

“No!” Tony shouted, pointing a finger at the shocked man. “You will come to **_me_ ** ! You will talk to me, you will talk to your shrink, to Reeves, to Taft, to Torres, to Tim. But you will **_never_** ,” Tony stressed, gripping the man's chin, “ ** _ever_** , hurt yourself!”

 

Gibbs swallowed, and nodded. “I promise Tony.”

 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Tony put his face in his hands.

 

“Let's get lunch, then we’ll go from there, ok?”

 

“Ok.” Gibbs replied, “Are-are you ok though?”

 

He had to think about it for a few moments, shuffling through the many thoughts and feelings he was having.

 

“Not really,” the younger man admitted, his green eyes tired behind his glasses. “But I will be. Let's just focus on lunch right now, Jet. Then… we'll figure out where to start after that, ok?”

 

“Tali-”

 

“Is fine,” Tony assured his lover, seeing the panic in his face. “She's with Betty.”

 

“Good, and Tony-”

 

“I know, Jet. It's fi-well, you didn't hurt her. You already broke rule 6, plenty of times. Now, lunch.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You need to talk to your therapist, Gibbs.”

 

Sighing, Gibbs looked away, out the window and into the sunny outside, the view so different from Tony's old apartment. Tim and Delilah, and their new twins lived in Tony's old apartment now.

 

Tim had grown up so much.

 

_“h-he c-can be a b-bit dif-difficult, sir.”_

 

 _“And you don't think_ **_I_ ** _can be difficult,_ **_Special Agent McGee_** _?”_

 

It seemed like only a few weeks had passed since he met the timid, stuttering Probie Agent, so green that you got grass stains just talking to him.

 

But Tim was all grown up now, a Wife, two children, and was the Senior Field Agent on his team.

 

They had **all** grown.

 

Some of them though, haven't had the chance to grow.

 

_Pacci...Kate…Paula...Dad...Shannon...Kelly…_

 

Shannon would have eviscerated him, castrated him, if he had gotten drunk around Kelly. She would have had him out on his ass with the smallest bag of clothes she could find, faster than he could say _oo-rah!_

 

Shannon wouldn't have let him back in the house until he was completely sober and his mind healed.

 

The fact that Tony hadn't kicked him to the curb, and still hadn't, made Jethro love the man even more.

 

But at the same time, he wondered how much he had affected the younger man's actions; Maybe the years of working with Gibbs and the older man demanding Tony's loyalty echoed even long after he had stopped working for him.

 

“Yeah. I know, Tony.” 

The younger man sighed, and got up, grabbing his and Gibbs’ plate, taking it to sink.

 

“Then why haven't you?” Tony's question didn't hold an accusation, only tiredness.

 

“I don't know.” Jethro's answer wasn't a complete lie, he really didn't know. But he was sure that if he tried, he could figure it out.

 

But he didn't want to. If he did, he was sure that those two months would be dragged to the forefront of his mind and he wouldn't be able to shove it back in the iron cast box he had shoved them into, the key held firmly out of reach from anyone's grasp.

 

He didn't want to admit that in the last couple months, that box had begun cracking, the iron strained and rusted, the trauma leaking out like acid that stained his actions and burned his mind.

 

Jethro didn't want to face the fact that he couldn't fix this with a shot of bourbon and a couple hours in his basement, sanding his boat.

 

“You need help, Jethro.” Tony told him softly, and Gibbs was slightly surprised to see that Tony had finished the dishes and was now sitting in front of him.

 

“Why can't you help me?” Gibbs was desperately grasping at straws, and he knew it.

 

“Because I'm not a professional, Jet. You have problems that I'm not qualified to help you with. I could just make it worse,” Tony placed a hand on the older man's cheek, and Gibbs leaned into it.

 

“I don't want to hurt you. If you want to be a part of this family, you need to get better. You've needed help for far longer than just since Paraguay, and I think, deep down, you know that.”

 

Gibbs had to stop himself from protesting, because Tony was right.

 

He had needed help for years.

 

Probably decades.

 

But he had denied it, refuted it, and pushed anyone who suggested it away with his temper, and his second B. He didn't want to admit there was something wrong, that he needed help, that he had a drinking problem.

 

But after so many years, things had come to a head.

 

He couldn't ignore it any longer.

 

It was time.

 

“I'll make an appointment with Grace.”

  
  



End file.
